


if this is sin, then ill pay the piper

by desolationavenue



Series: wlw nct 🌈 [1]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - High School, Corruption, Cunnilingus, Eating out, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/F, Female Lee Donghyuck | Haechan, Female Mark Lee (NCT), Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Improper Use of Catholic Rituals, Internalized Homophobia, I’m sorry, Lesbian Sex, Light Dom/sub, Making Out, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Roman Catholicism, Rule 63, Slow Burn, and eating out, in the closet, its complicated but just read, porn but there’s a bit of plot, raging homosexuality but make it closeted, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:41:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24818545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desolationavenue/pseuds/desolationavenue
Summary: The air in the Sudan was seemingly sucked of all its moisture, atmosphere arid enough to dry the indignant tears that tried to swell into the drooped lids of her fatigued eyes. Minkyung struggles to accept the fact that she’s gay, barely because of the fact that “it’s sinful”, or at least that’s what the conservative Catholic congregation thinks. It’s an ongoing struggle because of the decade-old breath she has been holding in that wants to scream, “Hi I’m Minkyung! I like long walks in the park, going to cafés with my friends, writing poetry and prose, and I happen to like girls!”  Thus, the insurmountable fear of the disgusted and disappointed faces of her parents, family, neighbors, and church community continued to hold her hostage, chained up, bruised, and gagged silent in the porcelain birdcage called “the closet”.an wlw nct fic where Minkyung(mark) feels bound by catholic expectation but her new neighbor Dongeun(hyuck) is just visually and emotionally insufferable
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Series: wlw nct 🌈 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1795201
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	if this is sin, then ill pay the piper

**Author's Note:**

> title is a lyric from "oh my god" by (g)-idle because of gay and themes surrounding sin and religious allusions. enjoy my gay creation bc I love the lesbian nct niche on ao3.
> 
> thank you to my highbois for beta-reading!! i appreciate and love you all ✨

Minkyung bounced, the straps of her Mary-janes following suit as the be-speckled girl made her way with the congregation out of her marble palace. Gripping the passioned Christ between her trimmed nails she reflected vaguely on the homily the priest gave minutes prior.

“Chastity…”

Pondering vaguely, Minkyung feels the skin of her bridge involuntary tense as a hot flash of shame licks her neck, flushing the skin behind it. She knows that had father David known of her solitary escapades and fantasies he would have bore his scrutinizing gaze _straight_ into her guilty chestnut hues. She hadn’t been very forthcoming the last sessions her mother had to physically usher her into the confession booth.

Though to be fair, it isn’t the easiest to admit to your 78-year old Roman Catholic priest about how soaked your panties get at the thought of getting choked out by a young Winona Ryder. Especially not when you couldn’t admit to yourself that you were what some may call, a “homosexual”.

Minkyung cringed at the frenetic stream of thoughts rolling through her mind’s eye. It’s not that she even has a problem with gay people or even the lgbtq+ community as a whole, she always held love for the community, spiting the Christians who went out of their way to target the community with hateful interpretations of a holy text. However, to identify herself as a member of the community carries baggage weighing far past her 18-years of existing.

Rooted in household of traditional Catholic practice and values, the expectation for Minkyung was to focus on preserving her chastity until she meets the right man and becomes his wife. Such expectations, also entailing the restrictions on expressing individual sexuality, were supplemented by the consecutive Sundays spent absorbing the weighted words of the sallow-skinned priest while biting split-open lips and stark white knuckles. Nevertheless, the internal strife Minkyung bears is proving unwieldy; the external voices dictating how she should live her life to be seen in the eyes of god and the voice from within wailing in an angelic ensemble, lamenting of the softness that makes her heart glow. the choir can only be caged for so long. Minkyung knows. that fact doesn’t eat away at the dead-weighted resentment and terror that comes with embracing her identity and the consequent rejection from her entire community.

The mere hypothetical proves to be too much; the fear starts to burn Minkyung’s throat as sprigs of tears begin to etch their way into the curves of her lower lash line. she made quick work of her tears, blinking them dry as the silver sheen of her mother’s Chevrolet piqued her tortoiseshell specs. It was one of the first times that the be-speckled girl had found herself at mass without her mother (not that she was complaining) and she was frankly dreading having to reiterate the words of the priest to her mother when she inevitably asks, “what was the subject of the homily today?” as the flushed girl dropped herself on the leather shotgun seat.

“Oh— um... Pretty similar to last week’s actually”, she slurred. “yeah, like living your personal life in god’s image.

“Ah, I see. Well I’m sure it was insightful Minkyungie, you know I hate to miss our mass runs together” her bottom lip puffs out momentarily, “But no need to worry, my Sundays should be clear now as they typically would be, your father and I were able to unload the rest of the boxes from the new Lee family’s truck, so they should be settling in as we speak” she’s positively beaming at the prospect. Minkyung can’t tell whether her petite mother is bouncing more about the church thing or their new neighbours across from them, however. She wants to bet on church.

“O-oh... really?” Minkyung internally slapped herself for the delay in her response. As the mobile slowed at the red, the girl stared fiercely out of the window to avoid her mother’s gaze.

“Yes, you don’t remember? I told you that they were the ones who bought out the space next to us before...” her mother’s dark brows knit together in confusion, eyes focused, “Minkyungie, you seem a bit off suddenly… it’s not anything to do with the family is it?”

Minkyung jolted at the question, “You know how it’d be if drama were to arise with a family that just moved in, the neighbours would be right on I—”

“No! Mom, I know there’s nothing wrong. They are lovely people, I’m sure. I just forgot, that’s all.” clipping her mother’s anxious ramble.

“Oh, I see… very good then. You know how important our reputation is, Minkyung.” She sighs as the neon green lights blare at the cars to continue.

Minkyung didn’t even realize that she was holding back a breath before the air was streaming back out of them. looking down in her lap, she noticed her lavender nails clinging instinctually onto the hem of her silk church dress.

Minkyung tells a half-truth to her mother in that moment. You see, there was no malice to be had towards the family that was moving into their neatly upheld cul-de-sac. No valid, tangible reasons to have spite for them at least. She was sure Mr. and Mrs. Lee were and would be lovely people and neighbours. After all, Minkyung’s mother had been nice enough to show them around the neighborhood when they came for the open house, and the respect and formalities were very much mutual between the parents. The real issue became apparent when their daughter stepped out of their sleek Sudan.

Lee Dongeun stomped onto the slate cobblestone with the chunkiest patent boots; Minkyung’s eyes had never opened so wide in her life. Dongeun slumped in her baggy cargo pants, but Minkyung could still draft the outline of the girl’s tanned hips, synched by a chained belt that Minkyung often daydreams about feeling between her own fingers, she would not admit to dreaming it around her ne—the image of her torso she scribed religiously in her memory: the way she effortlessly made a worn zip-up look like fashion innovation, and the way her white tank top sculpted her round breasts like Michelangelo had David. She swore she didn’t stare for at least 10 seconds. Minkyung frowned down upon her own petite boobs; she couldn’t tell though if she’s jealous of the girl 5 meters from her or if she just wanted her. She hoped it wasn’t the latter. She couldn’t bare to face the latter.

Current-day Minkyung felt the heat flare all over again, down to her shoulders as she replays the heavy gaze she was met with; Dongeun had caught her in the act of worshipping her golden body through her spectacled eyes. Dongeun’s brambleberry-tinted lips were curled into a composed grin, rose-wood eyes hooded yet sharp with eyeliner, feathery lashes batting against sun-painted freckles on her cheekbones.

“Hey” she said.

Lord, Minkyung had a fucking death wish for sure. The brunette strode over to, now shaking, Minkyung’s bones were jellied and her palms were sweat-slicked and clammy. ‘oh lord please spare me’ she thought, standing like a stick in mud preparing for her ivory palace called ‘sexuality’ to completely crumble. Dongeun stopped a few paces from the (barely) taller girl and offered her ringed-out hand to shake.

“I’m Dongeun. This neighborhood seems nice enough”. Dongeun had paused to absorb the image of the girl in front of her before matching Minkyung’s wavering gaze. Her casual suave was tantalizing, and even irksome. She hadn’t even been on the polished driveway for 5 minutes and she had strut into the exclusive cul-de-sac as if she had bought it out without needing to look at a price tag.

“I suspect the people here are too” she grinned.

‘Oh fuck’

“I’m Minkyung, Minkyung Lee… I live here and I—yea…the people are nice, I guess”.

She applauded herself for just finishing the sentence unscathed as she warily met the freckled palm of Dongeun with her own, clammy hand. Confidence and appeal positively oozed out of her tanned pores with ease, while Minkyung was shaking in a wreck of sexually confused panic. Minkyung felt the repulsion to Dongeun’s borderline arrogance scratch the pit of her stomach. She had sincerely hoped that her family wouldn’t be the ones to move in, willed herself to keep her gaze from tracing the curves of her plump—

“So, you seemed to be standing outside for quite a while by the time I arrived”, her mother paused, “surely you paid the priest an appointment in the confession booth?”

The warm fog in Minkyung’s brain was blatantly interrupted by her mother’s voice. Jolting, she turns to her again. If her voice wasn’t already dipped in suspicion, then the way the faint wrinkles on her mother’s face creased had doubt emanating from her. Minkyung could barely contain the terror that shivered through her; it was as if her mother had stolen her train-of-thought and extracted her guilty thoughts on a film reel. The chill in her palms setting in, Minkyung finally said, “Of course mother!”

Minkyung pinched herself at the unconvincing reply she spilled from her bitten lips; how a girl she barely knows occupies nearly all of her headspace, Minkyung doesn’t know. What she does know is that her mental praise of Dongeun Lee’s physique alone was equivalent to breaking the first commandment. Minkyung knew she hadn’t saved her case when the piques of her mother’s eyes screwed tight and her half-scowl tightened.

“I want to know that you are taking the scripture seriously Minkyung. You need to be meeting with the priest; I shouldn’t have to hound you to know that you’ll actually go to the booth” her mother said.

Feeling another gallon of shame sear her nape, Minkyung visibly compacted in size and mumbled a, “Yes ma’am”, out the window.

The air in the Sudan was seemingly sucked of all its moisture, atmosphere arid enough to dry the indignant tears that tried to swell into the drooped lids of her fatigued eyes. Minkyung struggles to accept the fact that she’s gay, barely because of the fact that “it’s sinful”, or at least that’s what the conservative Catholic congregation thinks. It’s an ongoing struggle because of the decade-old breath she has been holding in that wants to scream, “Hi I’m Minkyung! I like long walks in the park, going to cafés with my friends, writing poetry and prose, and I happen to like girls!” Thus, the insurmountable fear of the disgusted and disappointed faces of her parents, family, neighbors, and church community continued to hold her hostage, chained up, bruised, and gagged silent in the porcelain birdcage called “the closet”.

Without speaking over an inoffensive mumble, Minkyung excuses herself from the vehicle parked in the garage, speed walks through the garage door, hastily toes off her Mary-janes, and scampers upstairs to the safety of her bedroom, black locks jumping behind her. The emotionally and mentally distraught girl finds salvation in the plush heaven and clouds of her lilac duvet and copious throw pillows. Instantly, the change in atmosphere made Minkyung feel safe. The smells of warm vanilla and lavender sprigs emanate from the glowing diffuser adjacent to her, she’s cuddled by the fluff nest and satin of the throws and gifted stuffed plushies around her. In this space, none of the anxieties from hiding day-after-day are allowed leak in. Here, Minkyung can be her authentic self. These four walls bear the bits of self-expression that Minkyung can feel good enough to display, her inspirations, her aspirations, and her sources of joy. This is her space, her safe space. Being swaddled in the warm silken sheets of her bed. The warm air is intoxicating in this moment, and its haze successfully lulls her, eyes fluttering with drowsiness, she slips and gives into the throws of sleep.

* * *

A warm trill vibrates from the pocket of Minkyung’s modesty shorts, rousing Minkyung from her impromptu, yet well-deserved snooze. Slipping her soft fingers under the pleats of her dress, Minkyung brings her jelly-cased phone to her face to unlock it.

“Ah! Younghee-unnie!” she yawns out with a stretch.

Younghee, otherwise known as Jenny Suh, is a name that tugs the corners of Minkyung’s mouth into an endeared smile. She’s someone who never fails to make Minkyung feel home, no matter where in the world they are together. Jenny has been an older-sister figure in her life ever since she and her parents set camp in this cul-de-sac with a tricycle and a box of “Veggietales” VHS tapes. She still remembers that specific day fondly; Jenny had approached Minkyung and her sparkly three-wheeler with a red-stained, gapped smile, tenderly crinkled eyes to match, and a lopsided slice of ruby-red watermelon in hand.

“You want some?”

Minkyung hadn’t even known her name until a week after their fateful first encounter, but that doesn’t even matter. Since that point, Minkyung has held an unshakeable attraction to Jenny; She had been stuck to her hip whilst reciting her times tables, shaking behind her as she told off Geraldine and Maria for sticking “kick me” to the neck of Minkyung’s argyle sweater, walking home with her with their first iced coffees and spring uniform, cackling at ungodly hours of night in the older girl’s room about the vines that had come up in Jenny’s feed that day, and even snickering though the headmistress’ address together at the tall girl’s graduation ceremony. Minkyung had definitely gone through some type of culture shock when Jenny had shipped out to the Northeast coast for University at the start of the academic year. With the lack of “Jenny Time”, Minkyung had essentially lost her best friend, her big sister. Her ultimate confidant.

However, with summer very much approaching the small, bubble of a town she currently resides, Jenny is preparing to fly back in. Minkyung heartily chuckles at the potential ways Jenny would try to flamboyantly greet her, chanting incessantly, “Fartly, Fartly! Momma’s back!” the moment she makes eye contact. Saying she’s simply excited to see Jenny Suh again would be wild way of understating the matter, but Minkyung knows she’ll get too psyched out if she dwells on the future. For now, virtual interactions with her best friend through Kakao Talk would have to suffice.

**_ Jen-D: _ ** _hey kiddo B). what’s shakin?_

 **_ min _ ** **_ ♡: _ ** _hahaaha nothing much unnie, feeling much better now! Feel like I haven’t heard from you_

_in a bit haha, what’s up?_

**_Jen-D:_** _nothing much huh? You must really need me then_ 😢

_things have been really busy here yk I hate to leave my sis hanging :”(_

**_ min _ ** **_ ♡: _ ** _HAHAGh yeah!??! I mean its not like I’m here having a crisis or anything that I don’t_

_know how to cope with skjb_

_sHIT that wasn’t meant to make you feel bad I just— hgdhj_

“Ugh what the heck did I just type”. She wasn’t mentally prepared to delve into her internalized homophobia to her best friend, when she wasn’t even _out_ to her? Everything is happening a rapid-fire speed and Minkyung is barely keeping up with the pace of life. Lips messed with scattered polish chips, Minkyung continued to nibble on her newly painted finger stubs. The screen of her Samsung lights up again.

__

** Jen-D: ** _hun… what’s wrong? talk to me_

_you know you always can_

Reasonably speaking, Minkyung knows that she can go to Jenny for anything. She practically _has_ confided in Jenny about a plethora of awkward, less-than-ideal situations, misunderstandings, and ordeals. She’s the single person Minkyung trusts to this degree. That exactly why she can only hope that Jenny wouldn’t view her liking girls as “weird” or, even worse, “immoral”. What is she supposed to do if she, her best friend if all time, were to reject this part of her identity, her existence? Minkyung can barely bear the thought, pain stabbing the raw cuticles she didn’t even process she was biting.

**_ min _ ** **_ ♡: _ ** _I know... it’s just a lot, its complicated_

_I just, I know you already have a lot of responsibilities w college and other friends yk_

_I don’t want to be a downer_

**_ Jen-D: _ ** _Minkyung…_

 **_ min _ ** **_ ♡: _ ** _I know it sounds stupid hahha I’ve just been having so many thoughts lately and it’s like I_

_can’t shut my mind off sjdjf haha_

**_ Jen-D: _ ** _Minkyung. Stop typing for a sec_

_I want you to just read what I’m about to send you from start to finish. Ok?_

**_ min _ ** **_ ♡: _ ** _yes unnie_

 **_ Jen-D: _ ** _beautiful_

_Listen love, I’ve always considered our friendship to be very mutual; you don’t even realize it, but you have such a lovable energy about you. When you burst in a fit of nervous laughter, viscerally cringe, and shake with unbridled joy and excitement. I find so much comfort and joy making you laugh, seeing your eyes light up when you hear the Mr. Softie truck, having my hand practically strangled when we’re watch Hereditary, and even hugging you back to earth in your lowest movements. Nothing honors me more than holding the gift of your trust Minkyung. Just by existing you make it easy for me to face the day, that’s how healing you are for me. You can’t be and haven’t ever been a “downer”. No matter what ‘baggage’ you’ve got._

‘God, she’s the best’, Minkyung thinks to herself, ‘She always knows what to say, eloquently at that. Curse her brilliant, scholarly, English-major mind!’

_**min**_ **_ ♡: _ ** _unnie…_

 _**Jen-D:**_ _… exceeept for the time you bit me for trying to lick ur ice cream cone_

_… AND maybe the time you kicked me in the cooch for tickling you_

_**min**_ **_ ♡: _ ** _Ya!! Stoooop sakdgjk :’(( so embarrassiiiing_

_both very justified, mind u!!!_

Still through the eye rolls, Minkyung can’t help but snort at her sarcastic jabs. That’s simply Jenny Suh’s, 11% fatality rate, contagion of joy.

_**Jen-D:** I kid, kid, lmao_

_**min**_ ** _♡:_** _but genuinely, thank you so much. For everything._

_**Jen-D:** no need to thank me love; I’d do all of it again in a heartbeat. Now, I’m always here if you_

_ever feel inclined as to tell me what’s been stressing you out, but I don’t want you to feel_

_pressured to share_  _._

‘She’s so nice,” Minkyung reiterates, “I want to tell her, I really do…” She thinks, if she comes out know, she could possibily cringe and most definitely cry a lot after being rejected, but she would have to face the visible disappointed on the brunette’s face. On the other hand, if she doesn’t come out now, she has to wait to try to tell it to Jenny’s face when she comes back and potentially pass out from the greater rush of anxiety at the required human interaction and inevitable, direct rejection. Text it is.

**_min_** ** _♡:_** _Please don’t hate me forever bc of this._

_**Jen-D:** that’s virtually impossible but hit me w your worst_

“Crap.” Minkyung felt the wave of bile in her stomach brewing, her feet shaking uncontrollably off the side of her bed. “Shoot, I haven’t even told her yet and I’m crying”, Minkyung laughs pathetically at herself, wiping the anxious tears fogging up her specs.

**_min_** ** _♡:_** _well,, im gay_

_like I knew for a long time,, its just been really hard and yea, yea hahah srry_

Her eyes are on fire, scanning the black chat window for Jenny’s response, her hands now full-on rattling. The terror eating at her at what she just admitted tangibly in text is starting to settle in.

**_Jen-D:_** _…Oh my god._


End file.
